Reese's Bride (2 page)

But that, like the length of time she had spent, was none of Frances’s business.

“Jared’s tutor has been looking for him. We don’t want him getting behind in his lessons.”

Elizabeth’s arm went protectively around her small son’s shoulders. “He’s going outside to play for a while. Then he can do his lessons.”

Jared looked up at her, his eyes big and dark. “I’ll do them now, Mama. Marcus and Benny prob’ly won’t want to play with me, anyway.”

“But—”

Frances swept in like a tall black raven and scooped Jared off toward the stairs. Elizabeth wanted to tell her little boys needed to do more than just study, but her
head was pounding and she couldn’t seem to get her thoughts in order. And her son was already climbing the sweeping staircase, Frances right beside him. She watched them ascend a second set of stairs and disappear into the schoolroom.

“So you’re home.” Mason Holloway’s voice snaked across the entry and Elizabeth turned. “I hope you enjoyed your shopping.”

Just a year younger than Edmund, Mason was a tall, formidable man, heavy through the chest and shoulders, with brown hair and a thick mustache. Not unattractive and yet there was a coarseness about him, and a tone of false sincerity that made her distrust him. A little shiver crept down her spine as his eyes ran over the swell of her breasts and unconsciously she took a step back.

“All in all, it was quite a pleasant outing,” she replied, forcing herself to smile. “A lovely little dress shop just opened. Mrs. O’Neal has some very fine fabrics.”

“You should have told me you wished to go. I would have given you an escort.”

Having Mason anywhere near her was the last thing she wanted. She had suffered Edmund’s company far too long, and her brother-in-law was even more loathsome. Mason Holloway had squandered every dollar he had inherited. He would have been destitute had Edmund not provided for him.

But her husband was nothing if not loyal. In his will, he had left Mason and Frances a life estate on their rooms in the east wing of the mansion, as well as permission to stay in his town house in London. Mason and Frances were there, whether she liked it or not, and there was no way to get rid of them.

“I appreciate the offer,” she told Mason, “but I had Jared to keep me company.”

He scoffed. “Jared is only a boy. A woman of your position shouldn’t be traveling alone.”

She hoisted her chin, but the motion made her dizzy. She reached out to catch hold of the stair rail, hoping Mason wouldn’t notice. “I was scarcely alone. I had a coachman and a pair of footmen with me.”

“That may be true, but next time, I shall accompany you.”

Not if she could prevent it, but Mason was a difficult man to oppose and lately she couldn’t seem to find the will to fight him. She had begun to feel unwell some weeks back, suffering from headaches and nausea and an occasional bout of dizziness.

It was part of the reason she hadn’t moved into Holiday House, the mansion on the outskirts of London she had inherited from her father, along with the rest of the fortune he had provided for her. She had wanted to leave but she was uncertain of her health and sure her in-laws would follow. If she tossed them out, she and Jared would suffer the scandal.

Still, a scandal was better than what might happen if she stayed.

As she stared at Mason, the suspicion that had begun to build over the past few months expanded inside her. If she was out of the way, Mason and Frances would become Jared’s guardians. They would control the vast Aldridge fortune.

The thought of her young son left alone and vulnerable and growing even more withdrawn made her stomach roll with nausea. She was all that stood between Jared and the
ruthless people who cared nothing for him and only wanted his money.

Sooner or later, she had to do something.

Her headache worsened, pounded viciously against her skull, and again the dizziness struck. “I am afraid you will have to excuse me. I discover I am not feeling all that well.”

Beneath his mustache, a sympathetic smile curved Mason’s lips. “Perhaps a nap will help.”

Turning away from him, she started up the staircase, but Mason caught up easily and fell in beside her, taking her arm to guide her toward the landing.

“I hope you’re feeling better by supper,” he said as they reached the door to her suite.

“I’m certain I will be.” But she wasn’t sure at all.

Fear for her son returned. As soon as she felt better, she would make plans to leave. She closed the door and prayed she could see it done.

J
ared sat in a carved, high-back chair at the head of the long, polished mahogany table in the state dining room. Elizabeth sat to his right in one of the other twenty-six chairs, Mason and Frances to his left. Tall candles burned in the huge, gas-lit, crystal chandelier hanging above the table, and the gold-rimmed plates were of finest Sevres porcelain.

It was too formal a setting for a shy little boy like Jared. But Frances had insisted, since it was his seventh birthday, and the issue didn’t seem important enough to Elizabeth to suffer an argument.

The meal was as lavish as the setting: a rich vermicelli soup, roasted partridge with pecan stuffing, lobster in cream sauce, an array of vegetables and fresh baked breads. Dessert was an assortment of cakes and tarts and a fancy custard in the shape of a swan.

It should have been a horse, Elizabeth thought. Jared had always loved horses.

“All right, boy. Time to open your presents.” Mason snapped his fingers at the pair of footmen who stood
along the wall. They rushed forward, gifts in hand, and set them on the table in front of her son.

Jared looked at the gifts and beamed at Elizabeth. “They’re all so beautiful, Mama.” It was like her son to appreciate the packages as much as the gifts inside. A lovely silver-wrapped box with a huge blue satin bow sat on top of a larger gift covered in bright red velvet-flocked paper decorated with a red feathered bird. Her own gift was the smallest, but beautifully wrapped in dark brown silk with a simple gold ribbon.

“Which one should I open first?” he asked, looking up at her.

“How about this one?” Mason shoved the red velvet package in front of him, the crimson stuffed bird jiggling with the motion.

Jared pulled the bird off the top and smoothed a hand over its feathers. “I wish it still could fly.”

He was a gentle-natured child. He loved animals of any sort, even stuffed ones.

“Open your gift, boy.” Mason pushed the box even closer and as Jared reached for it, nearly knocked it off the table.

The smile died on his lips. “I’m…I’m sorry, Uncle Mason.”

“It’s all right, boy. Here, let me help you.”

Elizabeth gritted her teeth as Mason pulled the box to his side of the table and ripped off the red flocked paper. He tore open the box then shoved it back to Jared and she saw that it was filled with an army of miniature soldiers.

Each wooden soldier was intricately carved and beautifully painted, half the army wearing the red-and-white uniforms of the British, Napoleon’s blue-coated soldiers forming the opposing force. They were the sort of thing
a little boy would love and Jared’s brown eyes gleamed with appreciation.

Elizabeth shivered. All she could think of Reese and how the army had torn them apart. A memory arose of him striding unannounced into the entry of Aldridge Park dressed in his scarlet uniform, so handsome her heart hurt just to look at him. He had discovered her betrayal and her hasty marriage to the earl. He had called her a liar and a whore and left her standing there shaking, her heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

Elizabeth shook herself, forcing away the image. Her head was beginning to throb and her mouth felt dry. She watched Jared open the second gift, a woolen jacket that Frances had bought him. He thanked her very properly and reached for the last of his gifts.

He looked up at her and smiled, knowing the gift was from her.

“I hope you like it,” Elizabeth said. She was feeling terribly weary. She hoped it didn’t show.

Jared carefully untied the gold ribbon, gently eased off the brown silk wrapping and set it aside, then lifted the lid off the box. Inside on a bed of tissue rested a small silver unicorn. It stood five inches high, its thick neck bowed, its powerful front legs dancing in the air.

Jared reached into the box, carefully removed the horse and held it up with reverence.

“A unicorn,” he said, his small fingers skimming over the shining horse that gleamed in the light of the candalabra in the center of the table. “He’s wonderful, Mama.”

Jared had a collection of four other unicorns. He loved horses of every shape and size and especially the mystical
creature with the magic horn in the middle of its forehead. “I’m going to name him Beauty.”

Mason carefully wiped his mustache with his napkin and shoved back his chair. He had little patience with children and that patience was clearly at an end. “It’s getting late. Now that your birthday is over for another year, it is past time you went to bed.”

Anger penetrated her lethargy and the pounding that had started in her head.

Elizabeth came to her feet. “Jared is my son, not yours. I will be the one to tell him when it’s time for bed.” She felt a tug on the skirt of her blue silk dinner gown. Her head was spinning. She hadn’t realized Jared had gotten up from his chair.

“It’s all right, Mama. Mrs. Garvey will be waiting for me.” Mrs. Garvey was his nanny, a kind, gray-haired woman whose own children were grown.

Elizabeth knelt and pulled her son into her arms. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. I’ll have the footmen bring your gifts up to your room.” She smoothed back an errant lock of his thick dark hair. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Jared looked over at Mason, caught his scowl, and eased out of her embrace. “Good night, Mama.”

Elizabeth’s heart squeezed. “Good night, sweetheart.”

Clutching the silver unicorn against his small chest, Jared turned and raced out of the dining room.

An hour later, Elizabeth sat on the tapestry stool in front of the mirror above her dressing table. It was late. Most of the household was abed. She had napped before supper and yet still felt tired. Lately she couldn’t seem to get enough sleep.

She yawned behind her hand, wondering if she had the energy to read, when the doorknob turned, the door swung silently open, and Mason Holloway walked into her bedroom.

Elizabeth shot up from the stool. She was wearing only a white cotton nightgown, hardly proper attire to receive male visitors.

“What are you doing in here?” She reached for the quilted wrapper lying on the bureau, but Mason picked it up before she could reach it.

“I saw the light under your door. I thought you might be in the mood for company.”

“What…what are you talking about? It’s late, Mason. Your wife will be wondering where you are.”

“My wife has no say in where I spend my evenings.” Instead of leaving, he tossed the robe aside and walked behind her, settled his big hands on her shoulders and began a crude massage.

Elizabeth’s stomach tightened with revulsion. She knocked his hands away and whirled to face him, the movement making her dizzy, and she swayed a little on her feet.

Mason caught her arm to steady her. “Still feeling poorly?”

Elizabeth managed to pull free. “Get out,” she said, but her head was pounding and the words came out with little force.

Mason leaned toward her, bent his head and pressed his mouth against the side of her neck. His mustache brushed against her skin and her stomach rolled with nausea.

“You don’t want me to leave,” he said, his voice husky. “You need me, Elizabeth. You need what I can give you.”

Her stomach churned. “I’ll scream. If you don’t leave this minute, I swear I shall scream the house down.”

Mason laughed softly. In the light of the lamp on the bedside table, his eyes glinted with sexual heat. “Perhaps the time is not yet right. Soon though. Soon I’ll come and you will welcome me, Elizabeth. You won’t have any other choice.”

You won’t have any other choice
. Dear God, the words rang with a certainty that made the hair rise at the back of her neck. “Get out!”

Mason just smiled. “Sleep well, my dear. I shall see you in the morning.”

Elizabeth stood frozen as he left the bedroom and quietly closed the door. Her head throbbed and the dizziness had returned. Sinking back down on the stool, she fought to steady herself and clear her head. She thought of Jared and the danger he was in and her eyes filled with tears.

She wasn’t safe in the house anymore and neither was her son. The time had come. She had to leave.

Ignoring the pounding in her skull, summoning her strength, as well as a shot of courage, she rose from the stool and hurried toward the bellpull to ring for Sophie, her ladies’ maid. A search beneath the bed made her nauseous, but yielded a heavy leather satchel she hefted up on the feather mattress.

A sleepy-eyed Sophie, dark hair sticking out all over her head, walked into the bedroom yawning. “You rang for me, my lady?”

“I need your help, Sophie. I’m leaving.”

The girl’s green eyes widened. “Now? It’s the middle of the night, my lady.”

“I need you to go upstairs and wake Mrs. Garvey. Tell her to get dressed. Tell her we are leaving straightaway and she needs to pack a bag for herself and one for Jared. Tell her to meet me downstairs at the door leading out to the carriage house.”

Beginning to pick up on Elizabeth’s urgency, Sophie straightened. “As you wish, my lady.”

“As soon as you’ve finished, go out to the stable and tell Mr. Hobbs to ready my carriage—the small one. Tell him not to come round front. Tell him I’ll come to him where he is.”

Sophie whirled to leave.

“And don’t tell anyone else I’m going.”

The little maid understood. Though she had never said so, she didn’t like Mason Holloway, either. She bobbed a curtsey and rushed out the door.

Ignoring a wave of dizziness, Elizabeth returned to her packing. By the time Sophie returned, she was dressed in a simple black woolen gown, her hair pulled into a tight chignon at the back of her neck, a crisp black bonnet tied beneath her chin.

“I need help with the last of the buttons,” she said to her maid, turning her back so that Sophie could do them up. As soon as the task was completed, Elizabeth grabbed her black wool cloak off the hook beside the door and whirled it round her shoulders. She swayed a little with the effort.

Sophie rushed forward, alarmed. “My lady!”

“I’m all right. Just promise you will keep silent until morning.”

“Of course. You can trust me, my lady. Please be careful.”

Elizabeth smiled, grateful for the young girl’s loyalty. “I’ll be careful.”

Heading down the servants’ stairs, satchel in hand, it didn’t take long to reach the door leading out to the stable. Holding two small bags, Mrs. Garvey stood next to Jared, who looked up at Elizabeth with big, worried brown eyes.

“Where are we going, Mama?”

Until that very moment, she hadn’t been completely certain. Now she looked at her son, felt a rush of dizziness, and knew what she had to do.

“To see an old friend,” she said, and dear God, she prayed that somewhere in the darkest part of his heart, he would find that in some small measure, it was still true.